To Bring You Back
by Aloemilk
Summary: When Ron went Missing in Action after an Auror mission, Hermione's life turned upside down. Now he's back, but the trauma he suffered while gone puts a strain on their relationship. How can they face this challenge, and at the same time capture his kidnappers? Will they stop the Dark Wizards in time? FYI, rating will change to M in following chapters.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Quick breaths, sighs, and moans died slowly in the otherwise quiet room. After a few moments had passed, Ron freed her from his weight by falling onto his back and taking Hermione with him. Used to this move by now, she just let herself follow the motion and resting her head on his shoulder.

It was all of those little things she knew to expect from him that made her miss him the most. She knows she will miss that she wouldn't catch him appreciating her body at the oddest moments, or that he wouldn't interrupt her in the middle of a chore to make love to her right there and then. She'll miss that when she gets out of the bathroom in the mornings she won't find a cup of tea on her dresser, or the quick kiss goodbye he gives her before she leaves for work.

It was like her brain didn't know he was away on a mission, and it requested that he be there with her, making tea for her and kissing her goodbye. It was like it demanded she had those things, and his smell, and annoying habits, or it wouldn't consent on working properly.

She didn't really blame her brain; she knew how much Ron was a part of her. Still, it didn't mean she didn't care for the way her whole self seemed to miss him when he was away. This time, it seemed it'd be at least a month. She was already upset by the way she knew she'd feel after just a few days of his absence.

"How certain is it you'll be back in a month?" she asked.

He started caressing the skin on her back, taking a little time to reply. When he answered, his voice was heavy with sleep. "I really don't know. The track we have on them is weak at best, and the way they're moving is more than a bit weird, so we're forced to go and track them personally. It really depends on what we catch them doing and where or when. The four week estimate could either be more pessimist than needed or far too innocent… so I really don't know."

"Do you at least have an idea what they might be doing there? You told me it was a rocky forest kind of place, and that you, nor the team, couldn't imagine what they'd want there."

"Yesterday we got Neville's consultation report. Can you imagine he's a Hogwarts' teacher now and a freelance consultant in Herbology for the Ministry?" he said, smiling.

She smiled back. "Yes, I can. The youngest professor in Hogwarts' history; I've always known he's great."

"Oh, yeah, I know," he replied, looking at her sideways. "He was the first guy you ever talked to on the train."

She laughed an incredulous laugh. "Please, Ron, you can't possibly tell me you're jealous of that _now_?"

"I'm not jealous, Hermione. I'm just... stating a fact."

She looked him down as best as she could from where she was. "Good. Anyway, what did Neville's report say?"

"It said that there were some plants in the area that are really difficult to find, and most useful for some dark magic potions. Ramsden did a follow up of some of the suspects, and maybe that is what those wizards are after. Those plants could be sold for high sums of money, if they're not planning on doing the potions themselves."

"Yes, it could be that. It's good Auror Ramsden will go as a part of the team. He must have studied the suspects' profile in depth when he did the report, so he'll be able to tell you more about what to expect from them."

After few seconds had passed by, Hermione finally decided to say the only thing left for her to say. "I'm going to miss you. I always do, and it has never been more than a couple of weeks before."

"I can't deny it makes me happy to know you'll miss me." He kissed the top of her head. "Does it make it better to know I'll miss you, too?"

She sighed. "I know you'll miss me, but will a part of your brain always be thinking that something might have happened to me and you don't know?"

She knew her voice had sounded a little strained, but she hadn't been able to help it.

"In a certain way yeah, it will. I always wonder how you are, what you're doing… it's not easy being away, you know."

"I know that, and it's now what I meant," she replied, breathing deep and trying not to sound angry. Their last night together wasn't supposed to end with a quarrel. "It's just that I'll keep doing the same things I always do, only that you won't be here… it's such a contrast, because I know what I'll be missing."

She got up to support her weight on an elbow, watching him closely.

He was wide-awake now, certainly because he'd realized it was a serious conversation for her. His hair was a mess, a consequence of her fingers running through it as they made love a short while ago. His brows were furrowed, his skin slightly flushed. His hand had stilled on her back. "Hermione… you know this is part of the job. You know I have to go."

"I know that. It's exactly why I've never asked you to stay, even if I can't help being afraid that maybe _this_ time something will happen that'll stop you from coming back." She saw he was ready to reply to that, but she interrupted him with a hand on his chest. "I know you're one of the best Aurors out there, that helps me control the fear. I know you won't be making silly mistakes or risking your life unnecessarily… but it still doesn't guarantee me that you'll be back. It's that small chance that something unpredictable will happen that keeps worming its way to my thoughts, and making me wish it wasn't a part of the job for you to go away on missions.

"I know," she continued after taking a deep breath, "… that anything could happen, here, or there, or in two years. Rationally, I know all of that. You can't deny, though, that the chances rise if you're in an unfamiliar territory fighting Dark Wizards."

"But…"

"All I mean by this, Ron, is please come back to me, okay?"

That silenced his reply. His eyes softened. "Merlin, Hermione…" His free hand reached for her face, caressing it. "You know I couldn't stay away, even if I tried. And I wouldn't!"

"I know, but..."

"There's no way I'd leave you," he continued. Now his hand found hers on his chest, looking for her engagement ring. "There's no way I'd leave all of this behind."

"Oh, Ron..." she tried to find the words for what she was feeling. The problem was that even she didn't understand where this all was coming from. "I know you wouldn't, but we can never know. So I guess all that there's left to say is that I love you."

He kissed her. "You're right, we never know what might happen. I can't promise I'll be back... but I can promise I'll try for as long as I'm alive to come back to you. I love you, too."

They kissed again, trying to convey with their lips all the emotions this conversation had provoked. They hugged, trying to get as close to each other as they could, so maybe their bodies would finally imprint on each other. Then they made love, hoping maybe this time the feeling of being joined would last them forever.

What they didn't know was no matter how much they tried, their bodies and souls would still call for each other when apart. Even after months of not knowing where Ron was.

* * *

A/N: This is the first original writing I've done for my OTP in a long while, and first multichap ever. I hope you like it as much as I'm enjoying writing it.

Thanks forever to my amazing beta Pili, without whom this story would have had too many typos and errors for you to read without getting a headache.

Also, I want to thank Otterandterrier and Diva-gonzo, for encouraging me to finish this story when I found it on my pc after 3 years (!).


	2. In Between

_A/N: This will be a short chapter. Next ones are all about double in size, so it should get better :)_

_Thanks again and forever to Pili 3 and to those who reviewed and favourited. Is there a way to reply to reviews without having to send a PM? Or did I get it wrong?_

* * *

**In Between**

Ten months, thirteen days and three quarters, that's how long Ron had been gone. Another day was ending, and there were still no news about him.

Hermione left the documents she had brought home from work on the coffee table and let herself fall on the couch. Sprawled there, she allowed herself to simply stay quiet and do nothing but breathe. Work had been hard that day, with many projects on her desk waiting for her to review. Since Ron had been gone, she spent most of her day at the office, and her boss was too clever to miss an opportunity like that. She had piled report after report on Hermione's files, then project after project on her to-do folder. It had taken Hermione to work up to 10 hours a day just to keep up. And that was not counting all the follow-up paperwork she did at home. Still, Hermione wasn't complaining; it kept her busy, and being busy meant she didn't have much time to think about Ron.

Sometimes, when she did find some free time, she would visit her parents. They had always been caring towards her, and had tried hard to understand their peculiar child. Even after their return from Australia, when their pain hurt had built a wall between them, Hermione's parents had made an effort to understand her decisions. Overtime, that wound had healed but the divide between Hermione's Muggle life and her magical one had only grown bigger.

That was the reason why she spent most of her free time with the Weasleys and Harry. Not only did they love her like one of their own, but they _understood _her.

She knew she was probably mistaken in devoting her life to her job and spending her free time with the Weasleys and Harry. She knew there were a lot of expectations regarding what she chose to do with her life. Aside from being successful at work, people seemed to have a very clear idea of whether they wanted her to wait a bit more for news about Ron, or whether she should go on with her life.

Well, that troubled her. To start with, what did _go on with her life __**mean**_? Because her life was still going on. She still went to work and went out with her friends. If all they meant, though, was that she had to start dating again... _That_ was another problem altogether. She didn't want to date anyone.

The fact that Ron's disappearance had been all over The Prophet meant that everyone knew she was alone, or at least that Ron wasn't there, which many thought meant they had a chance with her. A few guys had invited her out, and she'd accepted a total amount of two times. The first guy had seemed interested in her because of her status as a war hero _- _those had been his words. He said he thought of her as a bloody _war hero_! To make it worse, he had tried to impress her with talk of books and operas - he was Muggleborn, too - and intellectual riddles. Yes, she was very interested in books, everyone kept saying how brilliant she was... but her life wasn't all about that. Yes, she naturally tended to all of that, but for a partner, she needed someone that could balance her and make her experience the other sides of herself. She needed Ron.

Hermione let out a sigh, frustrated at her own thoughts. She knew she would always compare everyone to him, and that it would be a big problem for a long while yet. That's what had actually happened with the second guy she went out with. He was nice enough, but had no spark. She couldn't imagine herself with anyone she didn't feel any kind of spark for, the kind of spark she felt for Ron from the very beginning.

She got up from the couch and ordered her things before going to put on her pyjamas. She wondered whether she could even find a guy attractive at all after knowing Ron. Maybe Ron had ruined every other guy for her. She scoffed at how illogical and corny it sounded... still, her brain put that question there for her to consider. What if she couldn't find anyone else she would want to spend time with? What if she grew old waiting for Ron and died a spinster because she never found a way to move on? The biggest problem was, setting everything else aside, that she wasn't ready to move on because she still wasn't sure she had to.

He had disappeared on a mission. He wasn't actually _dead_, not that she knew of. Some would argue she was stubborn, not wanting to accept he was gone. And maybe she was stubborn. Still, what could she do? A love like she felt for Ron was hard to let go.

She saw some of his clothes as she opened her closet. If she was honest with herself, she knew _that_ was something she should have done - take his things away and pack them in a safe place. She just hadn't been able to do it. Maybe that made her a whiny, pathetic little Penelope, nothing at all like her usual practical self. She found she just couldn't be rational when it related to Ron. Besides, if she took his things out, it would be like accepting that it could be ages until he came back. It didn't really matter how weak that made her, she just wasn't ready.

She decided she wasn't hungry enough to have dinner, and instead just prepared for bed. The following day she was going to the Weasleys' anyway, and that meant lots of food. She stared at the darkened ceiling for a few moments after clicking off the light. This night had been a especially difficult one, like those she'd experienced the first couple of months after Ron had disappeared. She had to guess it was because the year was drawing to an end.

She welcomed the summon of sleep. That way she wouldn't have to think of how close to being a whole year it had been since he had been missing. In a night like this one, it was simply too much to handle. She promised herself that when the year ended, she would go over all of this again. She would look at her life without Ron, and figure out a way to make it work.


	3. Her Family

A/N: I have too much to do tomorrow. Father's Day Brunch, then shopping, then refreshments at an aunt's... Therefore, I'm posting today! Hopefully, next week I'll go back to posting on Sundays :)

Thank you to Pili, as always, for her beta work. Also, thanks to my husband, for helping me figure out a couple plot twists happening in the following chapters!

* * *

Hermione had always enjoyed the company of the Weasleys, even if being in their presence was now bittersweet.

To her, they had always been a mystery. How was it possible to live with so many people around? How did they ever get the opportunity to say something when there were so many people wanting to talk? Were they different to her because they were Purebloods? She had been fascinated by their genealogy tree; she hadn't been able to help herself, she'd studied it as soon as she'd known they were a purely magical family. They were _so many _of them! It was such a contrast to her own family. She was an only child of two loving, but rather absent, parents who seemed to always be a little confused by their magical child and the world she now lived in. As for her extended family, she had only two cousins she rarely got to see. Still, she made friends with a boy that had a life with no points in common with hers.

At first, she had expected that her fascination for him and his family would diminish with time. She didn't expect the friendship to disappear, for Ron had proved to be such a loyal and good bloke; sometimes immature, sometimes hurtful, but a great friend nonetheless. She _had_ expected her fascination for him to lessen; instead, it was a shock to realize that as time had passed by, the attraction and the longing she felt for the family, and Ron, had only evolved into love.

The first time she realised she loved the Weasleys - Ron included - she had panicked a little bit. What if they didn't feel the same? How could she even _think_ she loved Ron? Soon she discovered, to her pleasure, that the love she felt for Ron _had_ to be fraternal, and that his family treated her like one of their own. That had to mean they loved her just like she loved them. Of course, it hadn't been long before she had to accept that even if her love for the Weasleys was that of a family member, her love for Ron had a completely different tint. She loved Ron like a girl could love a boy. Even if she had fought against that feeling and then had suffered the fears and insecurities that had come along with, it had all worked in the end.

All of these convictions had been tested after the war ended. Being a part of the Weasleys when a member of the family had died had been incredibly difficult. Seeing them break down had broken her, too, but she had had to be brave to be someone Ron could rely on. She didn't regret it. It had cemented their relationship beyond what they thought possible after knowing each other for so long... beyond what they thought possible for such a newly started couple. Being together was different from being friends. They learned that fast.

The history she had with the Weasleys and the way she understood Ron's family had been in the foreground after he had disappeared. Despite being in the midst of their own worry, the Weasleys had been there for her. They'd taken care of her and kept closely in touch with her, making her feel more than family. Like Arthur had told her once, it wasn't because she was Ron's fiancée, it was simply that they loved her for who she was, and they knew she loved them back. The least they could do was take care of one of the most important persons in their son's life... someone that loved Ron as much as they loved him.

All of these thoughts and images crossed her mind as she sat at the table with the family, Harry included. Seeing them together was great and fulfilling... while, at the same time, it accentuated the feeling of missing Ron. It was especially hard when Molly brought up anything to do with Ron, like she was obviously about to do at the moment. After the food was eaten, and with a glass in her hand, she waited to have everyone's attention.

"I wish all my children were here with me," the matriarch said in a tone that warned everyone of what was likely going to happen. It had happened before. "Fred's gone, and I've somewhat come to terms with that. One _never_ recovers from losing a son, but one must try to live with it. The case of Ron is different. I know he'll be back soon. I know he's not gone forever. I know he's alive, maybe even on his way home right now. For that, for the possibility of my son's return, I propose a toast."

The air around the table was tense with unspoken words and uncomfortable looks. Hermione could feel furtive eyes setting in her direction, making her wish she could either scream at them or escape to the garden.

_Melodramatic, much?_ she asked herself, internally snickering. _At least it would be a good distraction!_

"Don't stare at me like that, boy, nor pretend you're not staring. I know you think I'm in denial, but I'm not!" Molly said, pointing a finger at George.

"If you are in denial, how would you expect us to believe you when you say you're not?" George asked.

"You'll have more respect for me, young man. I'm your mother! If I say I'm not in denial, then I'm not. I just _know_!"

"There's no harm in having hopes, son", Arthur intervened.

Hermione wished everyone thought that way.

"I think Arthur is right," Hermione said. It was all she allowed herself to voice. She knew by experience the way this discussions went, and she didn't want to antagonize anyone. Besides, if she spoke her mind, she would be forced to express all her fears; being vulnerable like that would be too much for her, considering how she had been feeling the past few days. Remaining silent, in this case, was all about self preservation.

"I don't have _hopes_, Arthur... I _**know**_, doesn't anyone listen to me anymore in this house?"

"Of course there is, Dad," Percy answered his father, ignoring his mother. "How do you move on if you won't accept what has happened? You can't keep looking back wishing things were different or trying to find a way to change them. Things are what they are, and we have to take them as they are. Fred's gone, we learned to live with it. Ron's gone, it's time we accepted that as well!"

Molly's comments had quickly resulted in a discussion. Hermione had heard similar arguments before. She wasn't surprised Percy thought that way; many people did and had been pressuring her to go out and meet new people. It always felt like their advice was actually confronting her way of dealing with it.

"Besides," Percy continued, "it's not only about mourning someone. Life-turning decisions are at stake. I mean, what is Hermione supposed to do, die alone surrounded by cats?"

"Percy," Ginny said, saving Hermione from having to answer that statement. It had come too close to her own fears for her to manage to say anything coherent. "There's no need to be such a prat about it."

"I'm not being a prat, I'm being honest. The fact no one here can see it worries me. How long do we have to pretend Ron will return? It's been a year, for Merlin's sake. If he were going to come back, he would have done so already! Stop this nonsense, and let's move on. We lost two of us, let's just face it."

"You're most definitely being a prat," George countered. "_I_ lost a twin. Yet I'm not _quite_ as bitter!"

Hermione could see Percy sending daggers with his eyes in George's direction, to which the latter replied by smiling a little. "C'mon, brother. Ron's disappearance is different from Fred's death. Maybe _you_ should consider that, at least for a moment."

"If my brother the git can see that, I know you can, too," Ginny told Percy, trying to lighten the mood with a bit of teasing.

"Hey!" George scoffed. "Your brother the _git_? Thanks very much for making my mature comment look impossible coming from me!"

Hermione had to thank the inappropriate laugh Harry let out at the interaction.

"I'm sorry," her friend said. When he realised all eyes were on him, he found himself in the position of having to settle the matter. "All I know is the Auror Department considers Ron Missing In Action, not Presumably Dead. That's all I need to know."

"We all know it's because _you_ won't let the case be closed," Percy argued. "Everybody in the Ministry think Ron is dead."

"Percy!" came from several mouths.

"What?" he tersely replied.

"Clean the table, Percy," Molly said. "It's time for the dessert."

The rustle and movement gave Hermione the space to get up and go to the window. The discussion had distressed her; what should she do? Accept Ron was gone, or accept she didn't believe that just yet? Which was the better option? What was she _supposed _to do? Just go on as she was and set a deadline in which she'd reconsider everything? How long was she meant to wait?

"You were too quiet there," she heard her friend's voice say coming close to her. "That's not the Hermione I know."

She turned a little to welcome him. "What could I say? I don't know what I'm supposed to think about all this. Fighting with Percy won't help me figure it out."

"I don't know what we're supposed to think, either... but I know how I feel. And that feeling is telling me I'm not ready to let go of Ron yet."

"You too, then?" she let a thankful sigh escape her.

He took her hand. "Yeah, me too. It might be proven a mistake if time passes by and he's not returned but... as of now, no, I can't make up my mind yet."

"Me either, Harry. Me either."

* * *

She wasn't the first to leave Molly's house, nor was she the last one. But leave she did, to be home alone once again.

The day had taken its toll. As if her own ruminations weren't enough, that day's discussion had put a heavier weight on her. It just had been too close to her own fears.

"Don't mind Percy, Hermione," Arthur had said as she said goodbye. "He still feels guilty to have drifted away from us and to have missed Fred's last months. He wants to try and make it all better for us, but he doesn't know how to do it."

Hermione had hugged him and whispered her thanks, then proceeded to leave the place.

Now at the home Ron and Hermione had chosen for them, she walked to their bedroom and sat on the bed, staring at her engagement ring. She had never taken it off.

"What am I supposed to do?" she said aloud to the empty room, soft echoes coming back to her. "I don't want to let go of you." She knew, deep down, it all came to that. That's why she couldn't allow for another relationship to start. The dates she had had were all a ruse, as unfair as it had been for the blokes she had gone out with. She had needed to have real, concrete proof that dating was not for her. She had tried it; it hadn't worked. If the day ever came when she felt the need to go out and meet new people, she knew it would mark a big turn for her. It would be the main sign of having left Ron behind, maybe the only one. Whatever happened, she'd keep visiting the Weasleys, meeting with Harry, working at the Ministry. If she started dating again, though, it would finally show she had moved on.

She closed her ring hand in a fist and let it hit the mattress in frustration. Why did she even have to consider the idea of dating again at all? If Ron hadn't disappeared, they'd be married. Dating would have never been something she had to worry about again. But no, he wasn't with her, they weren't married and dating was a possibility.

She fell back to the bed, holding the ring in sight again.

"Ron, please come back."

She hadn't allowed herself to ask that aloud in months.

If there was something she was ready to accept, it was how good it felt to plead for that again.


	4. Talk About It

**Talk About It**

Several days later, Hermione entered a pub in a hurry, knowing she was a bit late. She spotted Harry immediately and walked purposely to him.

"Hey," he greeted her. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry, the conference lasted longer than I expected."

She asked for a butterbeer and, once it was served, told Harry what had been on her mind all day. The whole point of getting together with Harry was to have someone to talk about what was bothering her or him. They both used to have that in Ron.

"Today, I spotted a ginger as I walked to the Ministry," Hermione commented. "My heart did a double take."

"I know what you mean. It's happened to me too."

"It's awful; I'm tired of this. I wish Ron would come back already."

Neither mentioned the other possibility, to know for sure if he was dead.

"It's going to be a year soon," Harry said.

"I'm dreading it."

"You are? Why?"

"I guess... I guess a year sounds lots more than a number of months. I feel... I feel like I should make decisions by that time."

"What kind of decisions?"

"You know, Harry. Dating. That seems to be in everyone's mind when they think of a definite sign of me getting back on my feet."

"The thing is _you_ seem to be thinking you have to start dating again."

"Don't do that to me, Harry. Don't turn that on me. I'm just trying to understand what's going on, and decide what I'm going to do now that a year is drawing to an end. I wish I didn't feel like a year marks a deadline, but I do. Now, I find myself considering what others think I should do, because I have no idea. I don't _want_ to date, but maybe I should - that's what troubles me."

"I seriously don't understand why it's such a fuss. You dating, I mean. Why, is it really expected of every single woman to date? Can't a woman just be alone for a time if she so wishes? This is not the Middle Age, women can be perfectly happy alone if they want to."

Hermione laughed. "You sound like Ginny. She would have told me that."

"I heard it from Ginny," Harry said, smiling. "She... that's what she replied to a friend wanting to introduce you to her brother."

"See? Everyone's expecting me to date!"

"I guess it's not because you're not dating, but because circumstances have set you completely out of reach."

"Excuse me? That must have been Ginny, too."

"Yes," he smirked. "She said it lots more eloquently, though. We were talking about her friend, right? She got really upset on your behalf, knowing it's not easy for you to know people are expecting you to go out and meet men; either because they want you happy or because they want to have a reason to be scandalized because Hermione _Granger_ stopped waiting for Ron _Weasley_. Every person that read The Prophet when he disappeared knows you two were together and about to get married. There'll be people with nothing else to do but wanting to be disappointed in you."

"Great," Hermione replied, bitterly. "I hadn't thought of that."

"Oh, no," Harry took her hand, mortified. "I'm sorry. I should have let Ginny have this discussion with you. I'm not good at this."

"Don't worry," she told him, patting his hand and letting go. "You're my friend as much as she is. I would have heard that from either of you sooner or later. The thing is, never mind the readers of The Prophet, people close to me are expecting me to date. A couple of friends at work have been insisting, telling me that the right time is never going to come. They say it's like trying to find the_ right time_ to talk about delicate stuff; there is no such time. Most of all, it's my mum that's been advising me it's time to start dating. She liked Ron, but it seems she feels that I'm wasting my time. She has a clear idea of what she thinks is going to happen, and that doesn't involve Ron returning. I hate that. And at the end of the day, I simply don't want to date."

"So don't date. Don't listen to your friends or your mum. They might mean well, but... if you don't want to date, then don't."

"You don't think I should?"

"Do _you_ think you should?"

"I'm asking _you_!"

"And why should _I_ decide? It's your life! Ginny and I and everyone who loves you will be here whatever you choose to do."

"You see, I went out twice already. I tried it, mostly to prove them wrong, and I hated every second of it. If I seriously start dating, I would feel like I'm betraying Ron."

"Hermione, the only one here who betrayed Ron was me."

She looked up sharply, unbelieving. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm here, and he's not."

"Why... and you feel _guilty_?"

"I'm not sorry for being here, and _that's_ what makes me feel guilty. What makes me feel worse, though, is knowing I was there, too, and I couldn't bring him back with me."

"Harry, none of you who were there remembers what happened. Some of you have a few unchained memories, but that's it. You're the one that remembers the most, and still that's an awfully small amount. Moore and Johnson lost several weeks worth of memories! Not to mention Aurors Augustus and Miller; their families are still grieving their loss. And you feel guilty because you don't know what happened? That's absurd! _Nobody_ knows what happened!"

"Whatever happened, I should have been there with him, Hermione. I should know what happened to him, and I should have brought him back. That's the whole point."

* * *

Harry remembered everything up to a point. The team had met the first morning of the mission and Apparated to the planned spot in pairs, he and Ron together as usual. Then they had inspected the place, setting camp only when the night was too close for them to risk not finding an appropriate place.

Two pairs each morning would leave to investigate the possible location of the Dark Wizards. One night, before going to sleep, Ron and Harry had been talking close to the smokeless fire they'd made. They were trying to decide the best course of action, considering they'd found nothing worthy yet. In that discussion, Harry had asked Ron to keep the list of the plants the Dark Wizards might be looking for. He'd seen Ron make a roll of it and put it on a hidden pocket in his trousers.

Then everything went black.

Flashes of light, scenes of fighting, curses flying, fear, confusion, escape, running through the trees, it was some of what he could remember. Waking up some undefined time later – hours, maybe? Or a whole day after, when the sun was up, surrounded by the same trees he'd avoided as he had run.

He'd found the other Aurors, one by one, most of them alive; yet, Ron was nowhere to be seen.

He looked for as long as he could, without endangering the other Aurors or himself, before he had to accept defeat and go back to the Ministry.

He wasn't surprised to find that having to tell Hermione, Ginny, and the Weasleys was one of the most difficult things he'd ever done in his life - and that was saying something. The question of why he'd run from the battle leaving Ron behind made him feel utterly guilty, and it fuelled his search for his friend. At first, they acted like Ron had been captured. A special team of the Auror Department was set to work exclusively on finding him, but no matter how many spells or tracking tactics they tried, they just weren't successful.

Time had passed, and they were running out of places to look. Harry pressured to make sure the case was never completely closed with a _Presumably Dead _seal, two words he had often heard but chose to never acknowledge. He once went as far as claiming they would never let a Hero like Ron be forgotten in a box labelled _Pending_. It was almost a tradition in the department now: once a month, they'd try again.

As long as it was up to Harry that would never change.

* * *

A couple of days had passed since meeting with Harry, and Hermione kept thinking back to their talk. Luckily for her, she wasn't worried about having more people than she had originally imagined with an eye on her love life. She actually felt comforted knowing that Harry and Ginny thought like she did: she didn't have to date just yet. Still, she hated the fact she felt somewhat pressured to do it. She knew it had to do with the talk she'd just had over the phone with her mother. She had called to talk about Ron, and how soon it would be a full year since he had disappeared.

"It's almost eleven months since you're gone, Ron," she said to the walls. It was rapidly becoming something normal for her. "If you're back this month, everything is going to be okay, I'm sure of it."

_Because that has lots of logic_, her mind told her.

"Well, you can just shut up," she replied to the voice in her head.

She went to the kitchen, still mulling over her phone conversation. Not finding any answers to her questions this time either, she decided she needed a break. She knew worrying was part of her nature, yet she realised she shouldn't keep thinking of this so obsessively. If she didn't want to date, then nobody should be forcing her to do it. It was her life, and she could do with it whatever she pleased.

To prove it, she decided she would pamper herself. Forget responsibilities for the night, and simply order some Italian food, drink some wine, and read a wonderful, simple, romantic paperback.

When Hermione called her favourite Italian place, she was told they were closed for the night. She complained, reminding them she was a loyal customer, but they had not taken pity on her. Refusing to let this ruin her night, she called and ordered Chinese. Immediately after, she opened a bottle of wine. With a glass in her hand, she sat on the couch deciding there was no reason she couldn't also take a wonderful bubble bath later that night. She reached for her book and tried to read.

The doorbell rang a while later. She opened and got the Chinese food, paid for it, and went humming to the kitchen to have dinner. At least her mood was improving. Or so she thought, until the doorbell rang again.

_What is it? Did I mistake the amount of money?_ _Because if the Italian came after all, I'll tell them what they can do with their food_,she thought, going quickly to the door to set things straight so she be able to finally eat.

When she opened the door, her first reaction was to reach for her wand. She'd expected some delivery-dressed guy she'd be able to somewhat look face to face. Instead, the person in front of her had filthy clothes over the chest she found at eye-level.

With a swift motion that took her only a couple of seconds, she pointed her wand to the threatening form on her doorstep. She thought of Dark Wizards and Muggle thieves in the few moments it took her to reach the stranger's eyes. The time that had gone in a flash and slow motion suddenly froze at what she found.

"Please, tell me you know who I am," Ron said.

* * *

So... yeah :) I'm a little nervous as I post this. I hope you guys enjoy a good ol' cliffhanger, and what's coming in the next chapters!

Thanks as always to Pili!


	5. Captivity

**Thank you so much to Pili, my wonderbeta, as always.  
I also want to thank all the reviewers and followers. I'm sorry I don't reply, but it's difficult for me to find time to write. I would like to believe you'd rather I finish this story, right? Also, I really dislike 's review reply system! Anyway, ****I am truly happy that you guys are enjoying this fanfic so far :) Each review has put a smile on my face.  
Now onto the new chapter! I'm just glad I managed to post it in the middle of moving to my new place.**

**Captivity**

Ron woke up in a dark and humid room. His head hurt like hell, and by the flaming pain in his left ankle he thought that maybe he'd broken it.

He tried to sit up several times before succeeding. When he finally did, he had to breathe deeply and slowly to avoid throwing up. Whatever had happened to him, it had been bloody awful.

When he felt ready to move, he gingerly touched his ankle, searching for protruding bones that would show a fracture. Luckily for him, he didn't find anything else beyond really tender flesh. He'd only sprained it.

He did a mental recollection of the rest of his body. It seemed that besides his severely sprained ankle, he also had a probable concussion. Knowing that, he set on figuring out where he was. Again, very slowly, he got up and went to the only door in the room. He wasn't surprised to find it locked. There wasn't much light in the room, only the faintest shimmering coming through the window, and a yellow, shining light coming from underneath the door. He could make out the silhouettes of the few things that were in the room: an old, sad looking mattress in the corner and a broken plumbing pipe, which explained the sound of constant dripping and the musty, mouldy smell. He then jumped on his good feet to the hand-sized window and looked out through it.

He was in what appeared to be a woody area. Grass was growing high up to the room through the window and in between the thin metal bars. It was obviously night, but he couldn't see any bits of the dark sky. He had no idea what time it was or where he was. A _crack_ that came from his back made him suddenly turn, making his ankle protest with a shooting pain. He let out a muffled _bloody hell!_ before exploring and realizing food had been brought. It was just a piece of bread and some sort of non-descript soup, but it _was_ food.

He ate in silence, and then lay on the mattress, thinking that maybe sleeping would help lessen his headache. Hopefully when he woke up, he'd also remember how it was he came to be in such a place or, much more important, who he was.

* * *

It took only a few days for Ron to understand he wasn't going to be set free any time soon. He'd started marking the days by scratching lines in the wall with a small rock he'd been able to reach through the window. Now the marks added up to three months and five days.

Twice a week a man would come and take him to another part of the house, the man's wand pointing right between his shoulder blades. It was when he saw that little piece of wood that he realised he didn't have one with him. Still, he wasn't surprised to see magic being used - a sense of knowing always arose within him when he saw the light and sparkles.

He dreaded those little outings while at the same time waited anxiously for them. He spent most of the time alone; twice a day food would appear with a _crack_! but he never saw anyone... except for those days when they'd take him out and moved him around. The problem was that those times were never good. They would ask him questions he didn't have answers to, then try to convince him of him being someone his instincts told him he wasn't. On his darkest days he almost wanted to believe them, to assume he was a Dark Wizard like them. He recognised the words but never found a memory to attach to those words. But he knew, somehow he knew, that he wasn't a Dark Wizard as they insisted. Feeling anger every time those words were muttered to him was a clear sign that he could never be one of them.

When he failed to respond to them in the way they expected of him, they would get mad and do a few spells on him. There were days when he would find big chunks of time missing from his memory, which made him think that maybe they had ways of forcing him to forget. He had no way of knowing, and that frustrated him. In any case, none of it felt good. Sometimes it was really tempting to just give in and do what they asked.

He didn't understand why they needed him to accept he was someone he knew he wasn't. Maybe it had something to do with the few random bits of conversation he had overheard. The spell they wanted to do on him wouldn't work without him conceding he was a Dark Wizard; knowing that gave him the strength to resist being tortured. He would never do what they wanted of him.

Seven months had passed and his frustration and need to escape increased to insufferable levels. His body called for faceless people. He needed to breath fresh air to try and erase from his lungs the stale smell he'd been surrounded by all this time. He had to go back. He had no idea where or to whom, but he had to go back. He had to be free again.

Yet the routine of food twice a day never varied, nor the taking him out to be moved and confronted twice a week.

Once, he tried to escape. The man that had taken him away this time had left a door open behind him, and in a moment in which he'd turned to look for something, he'd made a run for it. The place they were at had turned out to be a single-story, old looking, wooden shackle. When he heard the guard scream in alarm, he crossed the door that opened up to a garden. He'd jumped over the fence, making a run for the woods and the chance of finding a place to hide. He had almost made it out in the clear when a pain he never thought was possible to survive made him fall and recoil on the floor. A wave of that indescribable pain came again, making him certain that this time he was dead for sure.

He wasn't. He was taken to that damn cell again, in which he had to spend the next few days with half the ration of food.

The need to escape again was what kept him sane, he was sure of that. He tried to do some exercise in his room, moving his body so it wouldn't lose function. The small space didn't allow for much, though, and that along the lack of healthy food had shrunk the muscles he had sported on the first days he'd been there. Sometimes he felt like he was slowly disappearing.

It had been ten months and a few days when he decided he couldn't wait anymore. If he did, he was sure he'd go crazy or simply die. Luckily for him a plan was soon available. While doing his exercise routine, he'd found a secret pocket in the lower part of his trousers. There he found a roll of paper, which listed several plants, and their uses next to them, along a drawing to recognise them. He'd seen plants cut and hung when he was taken out, but had never paid attention to them.

He memorized the descriptions. If he were lucky, he would be able to take hold of one of them. The next time he was taken out, he took the time to see what kind of plants have been those he'd seen cut on a table. When he saw the long, thin, dark green leaves on the table, he decided it would be as good a time as any other.

The list said those leaves were useful to make a most powerful venomous potion, but that if you chewed on the leaves it would make you unconscious. So, when the man that had taken him out this time turned his back to him, he got up as silently as he could and grabbed a handful of leaves. He crushed them in his hand, trying to release their juices.

It was then that his captor suddenly turned. Before he could react and scream or put a spell on him, Ron jumped and managed to choke him. The man's hands went to Ron's forearm, trying to free himself from his grasp. The despair and need to escape gave Ron enough strength to not let go. The guy's mouth was open in an effort to breathe. That made it easy for Ron to put the smashed leaves in his open mouth. Only a few moments later, the man went limp. When Ron set him down on the floor, he saw the man's eyes bulge open in surprise.

Ron took the wand lying on the floor and quickly searched for whatever he could take with him that would be useful. All he found in the few seconds he wasted there was a knife that was on the table and what looked like a silver cigarette lighter. He took them both and left right away, not looking back. He walked out of the house as silently as he could. He'd never been able to figure out how many people were in the house; it seemed to change with time. He crossed the same cleared space he'd try to escape through the previous time, running as fast as his tired, abused legs would allow. He didn't stop until his legs failed him and sent him down to the floor.

He stayed there, listening and trying to get his breath back. No sound came beyond that of the wind on the trees. Maybe he'd been lucky enough for the rest of the men in the house to expect him to be in his cell; maybe they had missed the, hopefully, still unconscious guy. Whatever had happened back there, it didn't seem they were close to where Ron was now.

A few minutes after that, he decided to get up and keep walking. He had no idea where he was or where he should go, but he did have a notion in which direction to go in order to get farther away from his captors. He kept walking in that direction until night fell upon him, and then he looked for a place to hide. He finally fell asleep with his stomach grunting for food.

* * *

It had been a few days since Ron had escaped. He had a wand, but no idea how to use it. He had a lighter that didn't work, and he also had a knife. He'd have to manage. He was eating even less than he did while kidnapped, and he didn't have a pipe to drink water from anymore. Still, the sense of finally being free was enough to keep him going.

One day he found a small town. He hadn't wanted to go into it immediately, suspecting that the wizards that had kept him prisoner would be looking for him there. He actually saw one of them walking on the streets of the town. He decided to surround the town and keep going, stealing some bread and apples from a barn he'd walked by.

One night he was hiding on a cave, trying to decide what to do and where to go. He hadn't wanted to light a fire, knowing the smoke could probably give his location away, if it didn't suffocate him first. Even so, when the night became too dark and too cold for his bad mood and exhaustion to stand, he took out the silvery thing he'd taken with him and clicked it, trying once again to see if it would work. Nothing happened. No small flame appeared.

It didn't matter, though. Not when a voice had come from it. _I wish Ron would be back already._

The voice then died, but he _had_ heard it. That hadn't been a mistake. He clicked it again, expecting the voice to come back. Instead, he realised a light had appeared at the mouth of the cave, pulsing in bluish tones. He knew, like he had known he wasn't a Dark Wizard, that he was supposed to follow it. So he did so for the next few days. During daylight it would be difficult to recognize, but Ron never stopped seeing it. He walked behind the ball of light wherever it took him, wondering how it knew where he could find edible plants or where to hide. It was the best thing that had happened to him in almost a year.

He tried not to think of his tired, stiff muscles. He just kept following that light.

Soon Ron arrived at a larger city. The light took him through dark alleys and lonely streets, taking him somewhere he couldn't imagine. The following night they'd come to a house, where the ball of light remained steady behind a bush. Having learned to accept its behaviour at face value, he simply stood there, hiding. He saw a guy come to the house's door and press a button next to it. A woman he barely saw came to it, took the boxes the man handed her and paid him. The guy left and the door closed.

A few moments later, the light moved again and stopped in front of that door. As soon as he reached for it, the light disappeared. Panic seized him for a moment. The light had been his companion for the last several days. Still, if it had disappeared, then he had to have reached the right place. He breathed deep and pressed on the same button he'd seen the other guy do. Instants later, the same woman came to the door.

It was like a blow to the chest. He didn't know who she was or why he'd reacted that way - such nervousness, such... giddiness - but he knew he had to remain still. The way she was pointing her wand to him told him she was scared enough. Ron saw her eyes widen in shock, and his rattled brain fought for words to tell her.

"Please, tell me you know who I am," he found himself saying... and hoping.

* * *

**Next week things get moving much faster!**


	6. The Return

**The Return**

Two loud _crack__s_ filled the room just instants after Hermione had closed the Floo call to Harry's place. She'd called him as soon as she had come down from the bedroom and had taken enough deep breaths to calm her running heart.

"Where is he?" The anxious question came from Harry's voice.

"Where is my brother? I want to see him!" Ginny had been with Harry when Hermione had called him.

"Shh! He's upstairs taking a shower."

She was still in shock. She sat heavily on a chair, needing a little time to settle herself.

"I can't believe it... Ron's back!" Ginny said, a smile splitting her face. "Did he tell you where he's been? How's he?"

"He's malnourished." In denial, Hermione opted to only answer the last question. To her horror, Hermione realised her eyes had filled with tears at the thought of Ron being amnesic. "Oh, Merlin... I'd never seen him this way."

Harry and Ginny sat on the kitchen chairs, too, and looked at her.

"It's worse than when we were searching for the Horcruxes, Harry. His skin is taut around his bones, which are also poking through his clothes. He looks... he looks like a walking skeleton," she commented, her voice almost breaking with the last word.

"That's not so bad, considering," Harry replied. "He came back to us; we'll feed him."

"When the door rang, I never expected it to be him. I had asked out loud for him to be back, but who would have thought this time it would work?"

Ginny and Harry looked at each other, wanting desperately to know more about Ron. Still, Hermione didn't feel like she could be anymore coherent than she was being at the moment. She started playing with the boxes still full of food.

"At first I was afraid of him and instinctively wanted to protect myself with my wand but... but then I saw who it was and I just..."

"What did he say? Did he say anything?"

"He said, _please tell me you know who I am._"

"What?!" came the response from both Harry and Ginny.

Having told them things chronologically had helped her focus. "I think he lost his memory. I... I didn't know what to do when I heard that. I should have known what to do, but I didn't. I've been hoping for this moment to arrive, and, when it finally did, all I managed to do was to let him in. Eventually, I took him upstairs and offered him the shower." She took another calming breath. "The way he looked at me... his eyes, they're not the same. I don't know what's missing, but they're not the same."

"Those..." Harry looked confused for a moment, not finding strong enough words to describe the Dark Wizards who had damaged Ron's mind. Finally, he pulled himself together. "I guess it's not terribly surprising that he lost his memory," Harry commented. "As terrible as it is, it's what happened to Johnson and Moore. We always knew they used some kind of memory charm."

"That's true," Ginny interrupted, agitated. "But, Hermione... are you sure he doesn't remember who he is?"

"No, I'm not completely sure, but why else would he have asked me to help him remember?"

"No, I don't remember much," came Ron's voice from the kitchen's door. "I was hoping you could help me with that."

* * *

Ron had entered the bedroom a little nervously. The woman that had received him was clearly at a loss of what to say or do, but it was obvious she knew who he was. He, on the other side, couldn't say he remembered how he knew her. Still, he felt calm and even content. He didn't know if it was because he _did_ know her, despite not remembering her, or simply because he seemed to have finally reached the end of a chapter in this journey.

"Here, I think you might want to take a shower. You look like you've been in the open for weeks."

"I have," he simply replied.

"Right," she said, going to the closet. He saw her hands were trembling as she opened the doors. "There are towels in the cabinet inside the bathroom. There should be a spare toothbrush under the sink. I'll leave some clothes on the bed for you."

Ron realised she was taking men's clothes out. Surely they weren't his, right? He stepped closer to the clothes and fingered them, wondering.

"I never stored them away. I just..."

He looked at her. He was surprised to see how close to him she was standing. He didn't know if it was for the lack of human interaction he had suffered in the last year or simply because he was too weak, but he felt his insides go to mush at the sight of her. Her eyes looked at him with a brightness that made him wish he could, maybe, just...

"Go on, take that shower," she said, stepping away. "I'll be in the kitchen downstairs when you're done."

"Okay," he said, as unsure of what he should say or do as she seemed to be.

He went to the bathroom and closed the door behind him; the tiredness he'd managed to ignore before was now creeping over him. He took his clothes off and left them on a pile on the floor. He hoped he would never have to see them again.

He stepped into the shower and opened the tap. The hot water fell on his chest like a welcomed perfection of relief. He sighed with pleasure, enjoying the warm and relaxing sensations on his skin. He submerged his head under the spray, allowing for yet another sigh. He hadn't been allowed to clean himself for more than five minutes once a week with two buckets of water.

He took the bar of soap and created a rich lather between his hands. The water ran muddy down the drain, taking away weeks of dirt from his skin. He washed his hair, and then did it all over again. Several minutes passed in which he simply allowed the water to fall down over his back. Then, deciding it had been long enough, he turned off the water and took a towel to dry off. Once that was achieved, he realised he'd have to go out of the bathroom with the towel around his protruding hips to get to his clothes. He didn't know why, but he didn't want the woman to see him this way.

She had said she'd be waiting in the kitchen. Hoping she was still downstairs, he opened the bathroom door and peeked outside. No one seemed to be in the bedroom; he gripped the towel around him more firmly and stepped out. When he was certain there was nobody there, he walked to the bed and handled the clothes she'd left for him. They seemed to be his size, and somehow that made him feel really comfortable once he'd tried them on.

Were they really his clothes? And if so, how came she'd had his clothes? Had they been living together? The possibility came as a shock to him. He didn't remember a single thing previous to his waking up in that bloody dark room; it could perfectly be true. Trying to find an answer, he went to the closet where he'd seen that the clothes had been stored. As he opened it he realised there was a lot of male clothes, presumably his. Next to them, there were lots of female clothes.

_Right._ She didn't look like she could be his sister. She must have been at least his girlfriend... or maybe more.

He quickly closed the door, feeling his stomach sinking to the floor. He suspected he was right, and it made the loss of his memory even worse.. The bluish light that had brought him here had taking him back to his former romantic partner... yet he had no one recollection of her being in his life. At least, he was certain now that the light had brought him to the right place. Maybe it was time he went down and, with her help, tried to figure all of this out.

He went out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He heard several voices coming from the kitchen, but didn't quite make out what they were saying until he was standing right under the door to it.

"Hermione... are you sure he doesn't remember who he is?" a girl that looked remarkably like him, redheaded and freckled, asked.

"No, I'm not completely sure, but why else would he have asked me to help him remember?"

"No, I don't remember much," Ron said. "I was hoping you could help me with that."

Next thing he knew, the freckled girl was hugging him fiercely.

"Oh, Ron! Oh, Merlin, you're back!"

He felt obliged to hug her back. As soon he did, he felt better than he had expected.

"So my name isRon, huh?"

When the girl grew apart from him so she could take a look at him, Ron realised her eyes were full of tears.

"Yes, it is. Though you also respond to _tosser_."

He laughed at that. "You're my sister, right?"

"You remember?!"

He was sorry he'd asked that when he saw the unmistakeable hope in her eyes. He hated the fact he had to crush it. "No, I'm sorry. But even if I avoided looking myself in the mirror upstairs, I know we look too much alike."

"Yes, you two are siblings," the guy in glasses standing close to them said. "You also have other another four bothers."

Ron smiled. "You... you're not one of them, right?"

The guy let out a nervous laugh. "Oh, no. I'm Harry, and I'm your best friend. But you're more like my brother, though."

Harry walked slowly to him, and put his hand on Ron's shoulder. "I'm so happy you're back," he said. And then, a little hesitant and hoping it wouldn't make Ron uncomfortable, he warmly hugged him.

Ron let go of his sister and looked at the woman they'd called Hermione. He wouldn't know it, but he stared at her with what seemed a lot like expectation.

"I'm Hermione. I'm..." Ron noticed she looked nervously at Harry. "I was..."

"We lived together, didn't we?"

Three pairs of eyes rested on Ron, all looking surprised.

"I'm sorry, I... I looked in the closet. I saw our clothes together and drew conclusions, I..."

"Yes. We were together before you disappeared."

He didn't know why he felt the need to ask for forgiveness, but he did. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

She came close to him and hugged him. This time he didn't hesitate in putting his arms around her.

"You're back now, that's all that matters."

A few moments later, she let go of him, avoiding his eyes. She offered him a chair and, when he smelled the food on the boxes, his stomach growled shamefully.

"Oh, I'm sorry... you must be awfully hungry. Shall I heat some of this?" Hermione asked, taking the food out of the boxes and busying herself in making it edible again.

"Meanwhile, could you could tell us what you remember... if you're up to it?" Harry asked.

And Ron told them all he knew.

"That night I was hiding in a cave," he said, eating in between sentences, starved. "I was cold and frustrated, so I decided to take a chance and try to make a fire. I had a wand; I knew there had to be some kind of spell to make fire appear, but I didn't remember how to do it.

"So," he continued after swallowing another bite. "I decided to try on the lighter I'd taken from the house I was being held at. It hadn't worked the first time I tried it, but I'd hope that maybe this time it would. It didn't work, but a voice came from it."

"What?!" the three of them said at the same time.

Ron looked at them in turns, and saw them staring at each other.

"It must have been the Deluminator," Harry said.

"What happened then?" Hermione asked.

"Then a light appeared, and I-"

"Yes! It must have been the Deluminator!" Hermione said.

"I didn't know you had it with you, Ron," Harry said. "Do you still have it?"

"I have no idea what you two are talking about, but yeah... it must be in the pocket of my trousers. They're in a heap on the bathroom floor."

"Well," Ginny commented as Hermione got up to go look for it. "At least we know that, deep inside, you're still the same Ron. Really, a heap on the bathroom floor?"

"Ginny," Harry said, smiling, "he just got back. Can't you wait till he's on his feet again before teasing him?"

"No, I can't. He's my brother, and I'm happy to see him."

"Way of showing it, sister," Ron snickered.

"See?" Ginny asked, looking at Harry. "That was all Ron. It'll make him remember faster if we treat him like we always have."

"Yeah, you might have a point there," Harry admitted as Hermione came back.

"It _was_ the Deluminator, look!"

They passed the little silver thing between them. "So, what's a Deluminator?" Ron asked.

"_The_ Deluminator. There's no other one. Dumbledore gave it to you."

"Who's Dumbledore?" Ron asked again, confused.

"If you don't mind," Harry said, "that's a long enough story for several years of storytelling. We'll tell you all about it later. Could you finish your story first?"

Ron wanted to make sense of things as much as they did, but he accepted to satisfy their curiosity first. "Then a light came out, and I followed it. Eventually it brought me here. That's all that's left to the story."

Ron saw them looking at each other again.

"What did the voice say, Ron?" Hermione asked.

"It said, _I wish Ron was back already_. I suspected it was my name, but..."

"Oh, I remember that day!" she interrupted him. "Harry and I were in the pub, talking. I said that."

"But we've said his name several times. How come he never heard any of us before?" Harry countered.

"The Dark Wizards had the Deluminator first. They must have heard the voices, but they couldn't have known what it meant or what to do with it. Or maybe they didn't even hear the voices; maybe it only works with Ron."

"Yeah," Ginny said. "According to Ron's timeline, it could possibly be that we didn't mention his name between the day he escaped and that day you two met in that pub. We didn't meet much on those days. It could be."

"And when the light appeared," Hermione continued, "it must have known Ron wouldn't know how to Apparate."

Ron had finished his food as they'd been discussing the Deluminator. He felt ashamed of it, but the exhaustion he'd felt before taking the shower came back with full force. He could feel his eyes dropping, and his muscles going lack with the stress of the last few days, of the last few hours.

Hermione was the first to notice.

"Oh, of course you'd be tired. Do you want to go to sleep?"

He said yes with a nod. He didn't think to question the fact that Hermione took him to the main bedroom. He only knew he needed to sleep and, slipping under the covers, he fell asleep before his head had touched the pillow.

He slept a full day and a half and woke up surrounded by an unidentified, comforting smell that he thought was home.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so I'm nervous about this part of the plot. Amnesia is such a cliché! I'm trying to keep it fresh, despite how overdone this story device can be. I hope you guys give it a chance :)**

**Thanks as always to my dear Pili! You make this story better with all your help 3**


	7. St Mungos

**A/N: After the new content we got this week, this story is not longer canon. This makes me sad. Don't get me wrong; I love having new information and I LOVED that third canon kiss - but I planned this story to be as close as canon as possible and all of that has been torn to confetti. Oh well. I've been playing with a few scenarios in my head to explain the changes, and _maybe_ those ideas will become a multichapter in the future.**

**Thanks as always to my wonderful beta, Pili!**

* * *

Hermione sat on one of the chairs by the examination room where the Healers where checking Ron. She didn't realise it, but her body showed every sign of anxiety a body could show. Her legs were pressed together, her feet tapping on the floor in a constant, quick, tiring rhythm. Her hands wriggled together on her lap, and her brow furrowed with worry.

Ron had been in that room for two hours, and she didn't think she could stand the wait much longer. She couldn't wait for Ron to have his memory back.

Her mind strayed again to that fateful moment when she'd opened the door to find Ron standing in front of her. She had barely been able to keep herself together when she saw him, when she talked to him; the shock of realising he had lost his memory mingling with the joy of finally having him back with her… by the sight of him back in their bed.

When Ron had fallen asleep, she, Harry, and Ginny had talked for a while about what they should do. They decided they wouldn't tell the rest of the Weasleys, at least not until Ron woke up. Then, they would take him to St. Mungos to have him checked, for the Healers would surely know what to do. The Mediwizards hadn't been able to fix the memories of any of the other Aurors, but this time it would be different, surely? They would be able to fix his memory and whatever else that needed to be fixed.

After all, he simply _had_ to have several things that needed fixing. Considering everything he had gone through, it would be a miracle if his mind and malnourishment were the only things wrong with him. Still, she marvelled at his strength. He'd survived almost a year of psychological and physical torture, and he'd managed to escape and come back to her… just as he had promised.

"Hermione!" Molly called for her as soon as she had reached the ward. Hermione stood up to receive the fierce hug Molly greeted her with. "Where's Ron? Where's my son? Harry told us the story this morning and we came right away. I can't believe what happened to my little boy," she said with a strangled voice.

"He's not so little anymore, Mum," Ginny said, arriving with Harry, Arthur, and George.

"He'll always be my little boy, Ginny, just like you'll always be my little girl," Molly said turning briefly to her daughter. Then she turned back to Hermione. "Did the Healers recover his memory? Did they cure him?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Weasley. They've been in there for more than two hours, and no one has come out yet."

"Well, I'll ask then. I want to see him."

"Molly, dear, it's best if we just wait. They'll let us know when we're allowed to see him."

"Alright, Arthur, but the wait is killing me. Our son is back! I _knew_ he wasn't dead!"

Hermione noticed how she sent a victorious glance at George.

"Hey, don't look at me that way! It wasn't me who tried to convince you he wasn't!"

"Well, if you hadn't destroyed the Weasley clock, we would have known for sure, wouldn't we?"

George looked apologetically at his mum, like he always did when the issue came up. "I'm sorry, Mum, you know I am."

"I know," she said, forgiving her son yet again, her hand patting George's cheek. He had viciously attacked the Clock one morning, grieving the loss of his twin. As he would explain to his parents afterwards, it was initially done in defiance at having lost his twin brother. The positive consequence had come afterwards; when he realized he had also destroyed the rest of his family's hands on the clock, it had shown him he still had a family who cared for him. It had opened the gate to his healing, though he was never quite the same again.

Molly let go of George and turned to Hermione again, taking her hands in her own.

"Oh, dear, how are _you_? It must have been a shock when you opened the door to him this morning."

Hermione tried not to raise her eyebrows in surprise, but couldn't stop herself from looking at Harry for an explanation. He shrugged and mouthed, "It's easier this way."

He was probably right. If Molly knew Ron had been back for almost two days...

"Yes, for a moment I didn't know what to do. I've hoped for this moment for so long, it was hard to believe it had finally happened."

"You should have called me right away, Hermione. You know you should have. But let's not think about that. Let's just wait for him to be released so we can take him back to the Burrow. Harry told me he's malnourished; he'll be needing a good, nutritious meal."

"I thought we would just take him home, Mrs. Weasley. He needs to rest. You're all welcome, of course. We can all go together and have a late lunch."

"Nonsense, he'll be better taken care of with me. I'm his mother. You have your job and-"

"Mum!" Ginny and George said in unison.

"Mrs. Weasley..." Hermione started at the same time. _No way I'm letting him out of my sight_, she thought. Instead, she said, "Thank you for your offer, but I think it will be better if we ask his opinion. Once he gets his memory back, he'll be ready to make his own decisions."

She could see Molly hadn't liked her reply, but Hermione wasn't going to bend on this. She only hoped Molly wouldn't hold it against her in the future.

By the small nod she gave her, Hermione knew it was going be okay. "All right, we'll ask him. Knowing Ron, he'll want to be with you. Merlin knows he could never keep away from you long." Molly put a hand on her arm and her eyes softened. "I know this year has been terrible for you. Still, you must understand that I'll want to take care of him, too."

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley. I wouldn't keep him away from you. He loves you, too. You'll always be welcome at our home."

"You can take them food every day, dear," Arthur commented, smiling. "Or even better, you can go and cook there. What about that?" he added, putting an arm around his wife's shoulders.

"Oh, don't you tease me, Arthur Weasley!" she replied, slapping him on the chest.

"Is this a bad time? I can come back later."

"Neville!" Hermione said, and realised others had also said his name in welcome. "How did you know...?"

"Harry," he said, getting closer to all of them.

"I thought I'd tell him, considering how it was his note that saved him."

"It was nothing, really. I didn't do a thing. But I'm glad you told me... It's great news, isn't it? Ron's back!"

"If only the Healers would tell us how he's doing. How long has he been in there?" Ginny asked.

"More than two hours. I can't imagine what's taking them so long."

"Maybe they're trying to make him brighter, too. Noble cause, but probably useless," George said.

Everyone ignored him as the door finally opened behind them.

A Healer came out with a tired and confused expression on her face.

Hermione had expected everyone to start asking questions at the same time. Instead, everyone, including herself, was completely silent; all waiting to hear what the Healer had to say.

"Well... to start off I'd like to tell you that he's healthy now. We had to correct a few problems the malnourishment caused on his bones and internal organs. We also re-grew some of his muscles, which had been consumed during his long months of fasting. Still, he'll need to eat healthy for a while and, if he wants his old body back, he'll have to go back to his old exercise program. Slowly, mind you, he shouldn't overtax himself."

The silence was dense around Hermione. She suspected everyone was as shocked as she was. Everyone had been _told _what had happened to Ron; she had seen him with her own eyes. Still, listening to the effect his kidnapping had had on him seemed to make it even worse.

"As for the rest, his body is quite healthy. His mind, though..." The Healer seemed to hesitate. Hermione's heart skipped a beat. When she started talking again, she could hear the confusion and regret in her voice. "I'm really sorry, but we couldn't fix his memory problem."

"What?!"

"No!"

Several outcries arose around her, but Hermione's voice was trapped in her chest. As much as she had tried to convince herself that Ron's case was going to be different, that the Healers were going to figure out a solution for his memory loss, she had been evidently wrong.

"We tried everything we could. Every spell, every counter-spell we know of... we tried everything. Whatever happened to him was different than what happened to the other Aurors. We're able to trace the remnants of several different kinds of spells and curses, some of which we had never seen before. It looks like our healing magic was blocked by scarred tissue, which doesn't make sense. We talked to him and we would like to start researching, seeing him every week to try and figure this out once again. Any questions?"

As the rest of the family started asking questions, Hermione stepped away, needing to get away. She had to figure out what to do or how to deal with the news.

She wasn't really surprised when her steps took her to the room in which Ron had been checked in. Maybe she'd unconsciously planned to go there all along. Maybe she knew she wouldn't be missed, as everyone else was busy interrogating the Healer. No matter how it happened, she went into the room and closed the door behind her.

Ron was doing the last buttons of his shirt. He looked healthier, though still thinner than her last memories of him. She actually had the impression that he looked younger, his body very similar to how he looked back in their school years. But the sad look on his face wasn't at all like his usual expression back then.

She went to him and put a hand on his arm. He didn't look up; instead, he rested his weight on the bed behind him, letting his breath escape in a long sigh.

"This can't be happening, Hermione. I should be able to remember everything by now. The Healers were supposed to cure me, to bring back my memories."

She didn't say anything. She just hugged him, trying to give him the strength they both were going to need.

"It was awful being under so many spells and seeing that none of them worked," Ron continued.

"We'll find a way, Ron. I'll take my long, overdue vacation and, if that's not enough, I'll go on leave. We'll find a way to make it right."

The door opened behind them to let Molly enter the room.

"Oh, Ron!"

Hermione stepped away to give Molly the opportunity to hug her son.

She watched as Ron's mother clung to him fiercely, sobbing quietly into his chest. Hermione's eyes filled with a few tears, empathizing with the joy of having him back.

"Oh, dear," Molly said with a broken voice. Then she put her hands around Ron's face, looking into his eyes. "You're here."

Ron looked uncomfortable, guilt clouding his eyes. Hermione guessed he felt like he should know who was hugging him so lovingly. Certainly, his mother knew him just as well.

"You've always called me mum."

His smile was tentative, his eyes checking with Hermione every few seconds. Then he gathered himself together and smiled more confidently. "Yes, I can believe that I did."

Molly put her arms on her hips, looking like a most alive, plump ginger jar. "And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

He just signalled to the top of their heads. "Hair. I'm starting to think it's a distinctive trait."

"Well, you have to go see your father then." Molly put a hand behind his back, leading him out. "Even if you got your hair from both of us, your height can only come from him!"

Ron looked at Hermione once again as he got closer to the door. He turned a little so he could talk to her as he left and said, "You know, Hermione, I can't name a reason why I can suddenly believe that everything is going to be fine, but I do."

His smile had lit his eyes. It was the first time it did, and so she was able to truly believe they'd find a way of getting their old life back.


	8. News and Reports

The next morning, Ron woke up more rested than he remembered ever waking up. Stretching in bed, he wondered if it had anything to do with the excellent food he had had at his family's house the night before. And the company, of course. He found his family to be buoyant, fun, and loving. They not only told him they were happy to see him, they showed it.

With a content feeling over those recent memories, he took a shower and got dressed. He sniffed a wonderful smell coming up the stairs as soon as he stepped out of the bedroom, but he still chose to look at what else was on the second floor: an office, an unfurnished room, and another bathroom. Ron realized, for the first time since he had come to this house, that the place looked like a home of a young family. It meant that Hermione and him had to have had a future planned together.

He barely registered the thought and the shock it caused before he squelched it completely. He simply wasn't feel ready to deal with that just yet. Instead, he went down the stairs and followed the wonderful smell that had reached his nostrils. Breakfast seemed to be an excellent idea, especially when it smelled like that.

He reached the kitchen and opened the door to find his mum close to the stove and Hermione sitting at the table. After last night's dinner, he felt it wasn't quite so awkward to be with people that knew him so well, even if he couldn't really remember them. "Hi, Mum"

"Hi, Ron dear. You woke up just in time. I'm cooking a nurturing breakfast for you."

"Thanks, Mum. Good morning, Hermione."

"Hi, Ron," Hermione replied, looking up from the morning paper.

Ron didn't notice that he'd stared at her just a bit longer than usual. Hermione did, though, and quickly looked down, choosing to focus on the paper.

A _crack!_ resounded in the kitchen, where Ginny made an appearance. "Merlin, I'm starving!"

Everyone greeted Ginny, who had come to have breakfast with them. Last night they had talked and decided that when Molly was cooking at Ron and Hermione's place, Ginny would sometimes eat with them.

"Anything interesting in the Prophet, dear?" Molly asked, as she set potato patties in front of the trio.

"Well, the news that Ron is back made the front page. _Auror Weasley Returns; Rumours of Strange Behaviour Plague the Hero_," Hermione read aloud.

"Oh, that happened a little faster than I expected," Molly commented, as she set some sausages and eggs on the table. She didn't seem at all concerned with the sensational title. "I suppose someone at St. Mungos decided it would make a good story."

"Excuse me? Hero? _Strange behaviour_?! How come my coming back made the front page?" Ron asked.

"It was big news when you disappeared, too," Ginny replied.

"How...? Why...?" Ron asked again, confused and a little curious.

Molly sighed. "It's a long and sad story."

"But it could have been much, much worse," said Ginny, as she took a few patties and sausages and put them on her plate. "This is as good a time as any. Where shall we begin?"

Ron did the same, filling his plate with the food his mum had prepared. He saw how the three women in front of them were exchanging looks, until Ginny shrugged her shoulders and said, "You might as well start telling him, Hermione. Just try and make it short." Then, she proceeded to stuff her face with sausages, looking much like her brother.

"There was a boy named Tom Riddle. He grew up to be a very powerful wizard, but sadly he used his abilities to do wrong. He was thirsty for power, quickly rising to be the leader of most Dark Wizards. He changed his name, demanding to be called Lord Voldemort. He craved power, immortality, and envisioned a world where Pure-Bloods would reign over Half-Bloods and Muggles – that's the name we used for non-magical people. Voldemort hated non-magical people, and wizards and witches who were not Pure-Blood."

"We feared that name for so many years," his mum added. "There were two wars fought against him. The first one started when your dad and I were young. Eleven years of constant fear. We fought him and his followers, but didn't quite manage to win; he was too powerful. Still, as ironic as it was, it was the simplicity of a baby and his mother's love for him that finally won that war."

"And that baby," Ginny said with a smile, "was Harry."

"Harry?" Ron repeated, incredulous. "Harry, the same Harry I was talking to last night?"

"The very same," his mum replied. "There was a prophecy, that one of two babies would grow up to defeat Voldemort. He decided the prophecy meant Harry would be that baby, so he tried to kill him. As he attacked Harry, who was just over a year old at the time, his mother used her body to protect him. Voldemort didn't know it, but giving your life for someone, out of love, is the strongest magic there is. Voldemort died that night, or so we thought."

"Alright, that's interesting. But how does that connect with me being in the front page of the paper?"

"When Voldemort came back, he tried many times to kill Harry and create the world he so desired so. And here it's where you come into play. You, Harry, and I were best friends at school."

"Yeah, I can see that happening. I like him."

"You two were inseparable," Ginny continued. "You blokes were so close that you ended up being involved in everything that ever happened to him. You and Hermione were by his side throughout the seven years it took to finally defeat Lord Voldemort."

"So, let me see if I'm understanding this right," Ron said with a hint of an incredulous tone in his voice. "Harry defeated one of the most powerful wizards to ever exist, and Hermione and I helped him?"

"Not only us," Hermione replied. "Almost everyone who didn't want his vision of the world to succeed helped. We helped Harry carry out his mission to destroy him, that's all."

Ginny scoffed, but his mum was the one to correct her. "That mission was not as simple as you're trying to make it look. It was difficult, dangerous, and each one of you had something that was needed to achieve the goal the magical community had that was to defeat Voldemort. Ron," she continued, staring at him.

"There's far too many details to the story, and I'm sure with time you'll hear all of it. Besides, you'll get your memory back and trying to explain everything right now won't be necessary. Suffice to say, the three of you were essential to the maintenance of the magical world as we know it today. That meant that when everything was said and done, the three of you became quite popular with the people you helped save. So when you disappeared, it became front-page news, as well as your returning has."

Ron was quiet, trying to absorb all the information he had just been given.

"Take your time," Ginny said. "And if you have any questions, just ask Hermione. She loves giving answers to anything and everything, and she has first-hand information. Gotta go, now," she added as she got up and winked at Hermione, who was rolling her eyes. "I got a grueling Quidditch practice today. See you!"

Ginny kissed her mum on the cheek and left with another loud _crack_!.

"You two should go, as well," his mum adviced. "They are waiting for you at the Ministry. They want Ron's statement of what happened during these months. They hope it will help find this group of Dark Wizards."

"Are you up for it?" Asked Hermione.

"I suppose I am. I don't know how it'll help, but every small effort counts, right?"

* * *

The contentment he felt when he woke up had lasted only for a little while. After hearing the essentials of his involvement in defeating Voldemort, Ron felt a little off. The story sounded like something you read about, not something you experienced. The fact that people stole glances at them as they walked through the Ministry of Magic only added to his feeling of awkwardness.

"Why can't they stop staring at me?" Ron whispered to Hermione.

"Just ignore them, Ron," she replied. In a move that surprised him, Hermione took his hand and squeezed it to reassure him. Ron looked at her to find her smiling at him. He realized that it did actually make him feel better.

She moved to take her hand away, but Ron held it in his. She looked at him confused and a little shy. "Do you mind?" Ron asked. "It feels nice."

"No," she replied. "I don't mind."

They kept going through the halls until they reached the Auror Department. As soon as they walked in, a series of exclamations could be heard.

"Weasley!"

"He's back!"

"We always knew you were going to return!"

"Ready to go at them, eh, Weasley?!"

Hermione squeezed his hand again, silently acknowledging how strange it must feel for him to be back, and to be greeted by so many people he couldn't remember. She ignored everyone, and instead went directly to Harry's assistant. "Is Auror Potter available? We were meant to meet him here."

"Of course, Miss Granger. He-"

"Hermione! Ron," Harry greeted them as he came out of his office.

"Thank you, Sarah, I'll take it from here."

"Come on in," he said, now talking to Ron and Hermione. "Come to my office first, there's a few things I'd like to talk to you about."

"Are you alright?" Hermione asked Ron, as they sat in front of Harry's desk.

"Yeah, I'm okay. That was weird! Do I know all those people?"

"Yeah, mate. They were quite happy to see you," Harry commented. "Some of them were there with us when you disappeared."

"I don't remember at all. I keep having this feeling of familiarity, but as soon as I try to remember... there's simply nothing there."

"Do you think you're going to be okay trying to remember more details about the time you were imprisoned?" Harry asked.

"If you think it'll help, then yeah." Ron said, shrugging.

"Great! Let me call the Aurors in charge and we can start."

Harry quickly came back with two men, who introduced themselves as John and Duncan.

"I was there when you disappeared," John said. "Harry found me unconscious and brought me back. I really want to catch these guys."

"That's good to hear," Ron replied, with a smile.

"I already told them what I know of your captivity. Do you by any chance remember anything more than what you told me the first night?"

Ron took a moment to try, once again, to recall any details he might have forgotten.

"I can't think of anything, unless you count the description of the Wizards, the plants I saw, and what I remember of the area. Is that of any use?"

"That's excellent!" Hermione commented, excited that Ron had found a way to exercise his memory.

"Yes, that can definitely help," Duncan said. "Why don't we start with a description of the Wizards' faces?"

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to Pili, as always. Next chapter should have some UST, which is always I love.**


	9. Within

Ron and Hermione were sitting at a tea shop in Diagon Alley, having a quick meal after their visit to the Ministry. The meeting had felt like it had lasted ages; Ron sharing all the little pieces of information he was able to remember while the Aurors, who were taking notes, organized them into a report. Ron had left the place a little sad and frustrated at the state of his mind.

"I thought we could do something different now," Hermione said, looking for a way to distract him from his thoughts. "What do you think we go get you a new wand?"

"A wand?" Ron asked, perking up on his seat.

"Yes. You took one when you escaped, but it's not yours. I know yours, and this one isn't," she said. "You don't even carry it around. Am I wrong in thinking you don't feel a connection to it?"

"No, you're not wrong," Ron replied. He thought for a few moments and then asked, "Do you think it's a good idea? I don't know how to do magic anymore."

"Don't be silly," Hermione replied, trying to encourage him. "You haven't lost your magic. I'll just remind you of the spells you don't remember, for now. And then we just need to practice, and for that we'll need a wand."

This new plan excited Ron. They quickly finished their meal at the tea shop and made their way to Ollivanders. A bell rang as they opened the door, announcing their arrival.

"Miss Granger! It has been some time since I've seen you, darling girl! You too, Mr. Weasley! Why, it must have been at Shell Cottage that I last laid eyes on you two," Mr. Ollivander said.

Ron looked at the old guy with curiosity, noting the now familiar pang of almost-recognition. He noticed how his wrinkled, thin-skinned face had a parchment quality to it, and tried - but failed - to put a name to it.

"Mr. Ollivander! I didn't know you still ran this place!" Hermione said, notably surprised.

"Oh, I won't retire until I'm a hundred years old, and for that there's still a few years to go. I do have an apprentice now; wandlore is a tricky science, and my successor will need much study and practice if he wants to replace me."

"Here…" Mr. Ollivander said, calling for the young wizard that was standing in the shadows of the shop.

Turning back to Hermione, he added, "This is Felix, my grandson. He will help us today. Surely you're here looking for a wand? For whom, may I ask?"

"For me," Ron said. "I lost mine."

"Yes, yes, I have heard of your return. You say you do not have a wand?"

"No, I don't think I do."

"Interesting!" Ollivander exclaimed. "Was it broken?"

"I don't know," Ron replied, frustrated once again at how little he knew. "When I woke up, I didn't have a wand with me. When I escaped I took one, but I don't feel like it belongs to me."

"It's not the wand he was using before he was captured," Hermione added. "Until then, he was using the wand he won from Peter Pettigrew, which was a-"

"Chestnut, dragon heartstring core, 9 and ¼ inches."

"Exactly," said Hermione, amused at his perfect recollection.

"Well, that was not a perfect match, by any means. Did it work well for you?"

Ron looked at Hermione, expecting her to reply for him. He didn't know the answer to anything he was being asked.

"He never complained about it," was all Hermione said.

"Well, well, that is of little significance now. We shall find one that is a perfect fit for you."

"Go on, now," Mr. Ollivander told Felix. "Let's see what you can find."

After taking Ron's measurements, Felix disappeared between the rows of shelves containing piles of boxes. He returned with a few of those rectangular-shaped boxes and offered the first one to Mr. Ollivander.

"Try this one, Mr. Weasley," said the wand maker.

They tried a few wands, but Ollivander didn't seem to be happy with any of them. Suddenly, he took one of the few remaining ones on the table and exclaimed, "But what is this? Could it be...?" The wizard looked at the wand for a few moments, and then stared at Ron. Not saying a word, he gave Ron the wand he held in his hand and looked closely at him.

Ron felt self-conscious for a second, but as soon as he held the wand in his hand it seemed that everything around him disappeared. A warm feeling shot up his arm, and, just as a quick, a short jet of light came out the wand's point.

Everyone exclaimed in surprise, especially Mr. Ollivander. "But this is unexpected! I did not make this wand, you see. It's the work of Mykew Gregorovitch. The story of how it came to my hands is a long one, more suited for an evening by the fire than during a transaction at my shop. Nevertheless, this is clearly your wand, Mr. Weasley. It has chosen you."

"What is it made of?" Ron asked, still amazed at the connection he felt towards his new wand.

"Linden, with a core of unicorn hair, fourteen and a half inches. I had never sold a wand I did not make before, but it is obviously the perfect match. Your desire to heal and defeat the Dark Magic that was used on you has been recognized by your new wand. If I were you, I would go and start doing magic with it."

* * *

Hermione Apparated them into their house. Molly had long been gone, so they were alone.

"Do you want to try a few spells?" Hermione asked.

"Sure," Ron said, trying to hide his excitement.

They sat on the sofa, Hermione clearing away some books and that day's newspaper off the coffee table. Then, they sat with their wands at the ready.

"Let's start with some simple stuff. Let's try the Summoning Charm. _Accio_ glass!" exclaimed Hermione, and right away glass flew from the kitchen to the table in front of them. "Now, you try."

"_Accio!_" Nothing happened. "_ACCIO!_"

"Don't forget to mention what is it you want to get, Ron." Hermione suggested, a small smile on her lips.

"Oh, right," Ron said. He realised he had been looking at Hermione's lips, causing the tips of his ears to go red with embarrassment more because of it than because of his simple mistake. "_Accio_ glass!"

"Well done!" Hermione exclaimed. She squeezed Ron's knee, meaning to congratulate him. Ron, who had suddenly become very self-conscious and very aware of her proximity, found the gesture to be distracting.

"Now, since we have the glasses here, we'll try something else." She pointed her wand at the glass, then, slightly breathless with excitement, said, "_Aguamenti_."

Ron repeated the spells she showed him, finding it hard to concentrate. Feeling magic course through him felt amazing; his heart was beating fast and his breathing was quick. He felt slightly awestruck, and the way Hermione's eyes were shining was only making it worse. She looked beautiful, and her enthusiasm was endearing.

"Can you remember any spells, Ron?" she said, a hopeful tone in her voice.

He tried. He really wanted to impress her. He closed his eyes, as if by doing so his brain would work better.

Hermione tore a piece off one of the newspaper's pages and put it in front of them. "How about you try to levitate that piece of paper?"

He pointed the wand to it, and tried to think of the words to say. The paper stirred, but remained on the table.

"Did you see that?!" Hermione asked. "Try again."

He did. The piece of paper shifted a little bit, one corner slightly lifting off the wooden surface.

"Merlin, you did it!" Hermione flung herself to Ron's arms.

He put his arms around her instinctively. Her smell filled his nose, its familiarity hitting him on the stomach and causing his heart to flutter with emotions. With her arms still around his neck, she looked at him with slight confusion in her eyes. It seemed she was as surprised at her impulsive reaction as he was.

"I think it must have been the wind, Hermione," Ron said, Hermione still in his arms. "I didn't remember any words."

"It's _Wingardium Leviosa_," Hermione replied in almost a whisper. "Levitation charm."

"_Wingardium Levi-OH-sa,_" He repeated, imitating her intonation while looking at her lips. Ron felt like time was moving slowly, and all his attention was focused on her. Having her close like this felt right. "Do you think it will help my memory if I kiss you? I really want to kiss you."

"Are we still together, then?" she questioned him, her voice soft but serious, startling Ron out of the moment.

"What do you mean?" he asked, watching as Hermione moved out of his arms and sat next to him on the sofa.

"You have been back for three days, but it has not been like this before."

"Well, I have no way of knowing that, do I?" Ron said, slightly cross. "You haven't said anything."

"Neither have you."

"Look, I'm sorry. If you don't want me to kiss you, I won't," Ron offered, trying not to think of the hurt it caused him to say it.

"But I do want you to kiss me! I've been wanting a kiss from you for the past year."

"Well, there isn't much I can do about that, is there?"

"I don't want us to fight, Ron. I just want to talk about this."

He let out a frustrated sigh. He didn't want to fight with her either. "Alright. Let's talk about it, then. Why don't you tell me what I need to know about us? I realized we were living together when I came back; I looked in the closet and I saw my stuff. Does the ring on your finger..." Ron couldn't finish the question.

"Yes, we were living together. We were going to get married."

As big as the news was, Ron wasn't surprised at her answer. "I must have been very much in love with you before."

Hermione's eyes shone with pain, but she was trying hard not to show it. "So you don't love me anymore," she stated.

"No!" Ron said, slightly panicked. He got closer to Hermione, trying to find the right words to say that would make her feel better. "I mean, I'm sure I do! I just... Well, I..."

"It's okay, I understand. It's been a long time, and everything you've experienced must have changed what you felt, I think that-"

"No, no, you don't understand," Ron interrupted her. "Yes, it's been a long time, and I experienced a lot of things, but I do feel something for you. I just... I think I'm still in shock, maybe a little overwhelmed by everything. It's not been easy, Hermione. But if I had planned to marry you, I'm sure that love is still there... It _is_ there, I just... I just need to settle into it, along with everything else I'm missing."

"You're right. I'm being selfish. You lost your memory, and here I am worried about what that means for us."

"Don't think like that. I think it's normal to want to know what to do with your life."

And just as suddenly as he had said the words, a thought came to Ron's mind. "Maybe _you _don't want to be with me anymore; maybe you want to see other blokes... or maybe you were seeing someone, and I interrupted?" Ron held his breath, scared of what he might hear next.

This whole conversation seemed strange; it seemed like neither of them knew quite how to approach the subject of their relationship. After being apart for so long, maybe there simply was nothing between them anymore. Still, Ron knew that, deep down, he would be incredibly upset and jealous if Hermione said she would rather be with someone else.

"No! No, I wasn't seeing anyone. And I don't want to see anyone else, either."

"So you never saw anyone while I was gone?"

"Well... I... yes, I did," Hermione replied, guilt all over her face. "I went out on a date, twice. I was feeling pressured to do it, and I needed to know. I needed to give it a try, so that I could _say_ I had tried, because I _knew_ I didn't want to date anyone else. You were gone, and I didn't know if you would ever be back, but I wanted to wait... it's just... I shouldn't have listened. I should have kept my ground and waited."

Ron felt hollowness fill his chest. "I shouldn't have asked," he finally said. He wanted to be angry at her; he wanted to be overcome with jealousy so that he could let out all his frustrations through a heated row. Still, all he felt was desolation and fear that, somehow, it was all his fault for having been gone; that it was all his fault for not being the Ron she needed when he had returned. "We're not doing a good job of talking about this, are we?"

Hermione let out a relieved sigh. She must have been waiting for an explosion, too. "No, we're not. It feels like when we were teenagers, having problems to say what we really mean."

Ron slumped on the couch, mad at himself and at the situation. "This is so bloody unfair."

"Do you want to see other girls?"

"No!"

"Good. I don't want to see other men. That's a start," she said, trying to look Ron in the eyes.

He smiled at her, thankful for her effort. "That's a start, yeah."

"Maybe we don't have to go back and pick up right where we left off. Why don't we see how things go? There's so much going on; I think we both need time to adapt to being together again."

"Maybe, yeah."

"I'm sure we'll make it work, Ron. I'm sure we'll get your memory back, and when we do, everything is going to fall into place. I know it".

Ron nodded his head in agreement, because he knew that if he talked, he would voice doubts instead. What would happen if he _didn't _get his memory back?


	10. Hogwarts

After talking about their relationship and reaching a sort of agreement, Ron expected things to be easier. He was wrong. Now, he had become even more aware of the way he felt about Hermione.

It was so strange to feel things for her and yet to have no memories to back up those feelings. He decided that must explain it; it was the disconnect between his emotions and his brain that caused the awkwardness with Hermione.

He got out of the shower, wrapped the towel around his hips, and got out of the bathroom to get dressed. As soon as he was ready, he went downstairs in search for breakfast.

"Good morning, Hermione," he greeted her when he saw her standing in the kitchen, a cup of tea in her hands.

"Hi," she replied, smiling.

Ron looked around, trying to see if there was anything edible at hand. He didn't want to ask her and appear as if he expected her to cook for him. His stomach made a growling sound, making it painfully obvious how hungry he was.

"So, I have an idea of what we can do today."

"You do?" asked Ron distractedly, still thinking of food. "Is mum coming to make breakfast?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And to think that in the past couple of years, you had become quite the cook. No, she's not coming."

"I can cook?" Ron asked, trying to decide if he could maybe make breakfast himself.

"Yes, you can. You love eating, so you figured no one better than you to satisfy your appetite. I was happy about that, too," Hermione continued, as she set her cup on the counter. "I can cook, but nothing fancy like you learned to do. And it's always nice to come home to your fiancé making you dinner."

Another sound came from him, even louder this time. Hermione took pity of him. She opened the fridge and took an apple out, handing it to him. Ron stared at the fruit, wondering how to return it to the fridge without looking like an ass.

"You're starving, even more than usual," she said, trying to hide a smile. "Well, you need to recover, so you're lucky we had that apple."

"Lucky?" He asked, looking from the apple to Hermione. She laughed.

"Merlin, Ron, you look despaired! That's just to hold you over for a little while. We're going to your mum's place right now."

Ron let out a sigh of relief. "So, how about you tell me all about your idea as we eat breakfast?"

Soon they had Apparated to The Burrow.

* * *

Hermione's plan for the day sounded like fun, in Ron's opinion. She had put together a little trip to Hogwarts for the day, and he was really excited to go and take a look around. Maybe, this time, it would spark some kind of recognition in him.

As soon as they had reached The Burrow, Ron and Hermione had breakfast with Arthur and Molly. Then, they stood by the old oil lamp that would take them to Hogwarts and waited for the Portkey to be ready.

"There are some perks to working in the Ministry," Arthur said. "And in knowing the Headmistress of Hogwarts! Not everyone gets to go there for a visit like this."

"Don't worry if you feel slightly queasy as you travel by Portkey," Molly had added, unable to stop mothering Ron. She started fiddling with his clothes and hair. "It only lasts a few moments and-"

"I'll be fine," Ron interrupted, feeling slightly awkward with all the patting. He was a grown man, after all.

"It's glowing, we should go. See you later!" Hermione announced, and without further to do, Ron echoed her goodbyes and they both took the Portkey to their old school.

The world spun around him for a few moments, but Ron was determined to not feel sick. Still, he was thankful when it stopped, and he found himself in a large, circular office. A multitude of voices started exclaiming at once, most of them coming from the many portraits covering the walls.

"Miss Granger! Mr. Weasley! It's good to see you," a woman told them. She was wearing interesting looking clothes and a pointy hat.

"Hedmistress McGonagall," Hermione said, evidently happy. "We're so thankful that you've made an exception and allowed us to come."

"Welcome, welcome!" one of the portraits was saying.

"Please, feel at home!" another one echoed.

"Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, it's been a few years since I last saw you," the painting of an old man, with long beard and spectacles, greeted them.

"Hello, Professor Dumbledore," Hermione said. "I'm glad to see you awake."

"Of course we are! We didn't want to miss your visit!"

"Well, well, let them be," McGonagall interrupted before many more portraits could speak. "We're just waiting for- this must be him. Come in," McGonagall exclaimed in answer to a knock at the door.

"Excuse me, Professor McGonagall, you called?"

"Professor Longbottom, yes I did. As you can see, our visitors are here."

"I'm glad to see you," Neville told them as he hugged Hermione. Then he extended a hand towards Ron, which he shook. "Are you doing okay?"

"I am," Ron replied, smiling. "All things considered."

"I hope that your visit today helps you, Mr. Weasley. Mr. Longbottom is going to take care of you while you remain inside Hogwarts. I'll see you at five for your returning Portkey."

"Thank you, Professor McGonagall," Ron said as they left the office.

While Hermione and Neville shared some small talk, Ron tried to pay attention to the castle. He tried to imagine himself there, going to classes and spending time with his friends. He tried to envision a past where the halls they were walking through were full of students, and where him, Harry, and Hermione would try to figure out ways to defeat a villain.

It still felt surreal to him. Not having memories to recall, to not know how you became to be who you are, was challenging in so many ways. As they reached Gryffindor Tower, and Neville and Hermione told him stories of different adventures they had shared there, he wondered if he would ever feel connected to any place again. He wanted to feel like he belonged, like he was indeed the same person they referred to in the recounts of their shared past. He couldn't wait to be himself once more.

They left the tower and visited the Room of Requirement, where the stories of fiendfyre and tiaras sounded like fairytales. It certainly explained why so many of the students they came across stared at them in bewilderment, accentuating his feeling of detachment. Did he really have it in him, to do all those incredible acts of heroism?

They finished the first part of the tour in the Great Hall; it mostly empty since it was the end of lunch hour. There, they sat at the end of one of the tables and shared a meal together.

"I hope we're not taking up much of your time, Neville," Hermione commented as she put some food on her plate. "You must be very busy, now that you're a professor here. How long has it been, a full year now?"

"Yes, I just started my second year here. It's been incredible! But to answer your question, don't worry one bit. I cleared my morning schedule to see you both. Right after lunch I have a couple of classes to teach, so I thought you could visit the Quidditch pitch while I'm busy. I'm sure Ron is going to love it."

"Will I?" Ron asked, curious.

"Oh, yeah, you will," Neville replied between bites. "You were the Keeper for our team back then when we were students."

"Were you two in the team too?"

"No. Neither one of us is very good on a broom."

"You used to love it," Hermione said, wistfully. "You would spend hours practicing, which meant you ignored many of your other assignments in favour of Quidditch practice."

"Did I," said Ron, amused. "Was I a poor student?"

"No," Hermione answered. "But you could have been so much better, if only you had applied yourself."

"Were _you_ a good student, then?" Ron teased her, only to hear a loud snort from Neville.

"The best! She was always top of our class. She was always busy reading or writing something; so much so, that some of our classmates were convinced she was doing yours and Harry's homework as well."

"I never!" Hermione countered, flustered, her food forgotten on her plate. "I mean I did help them, sometimes more than they deserved, but they always had to do most of it."

"Even Ron? We always knew you had a soft spot for him."

Ron looked at Hermione, to see her blushing slightly. He found he really liked seeing when she blushed, and it felt good to know she might have helped him a bit more than she did Harry.

"You don't have to answer," said Neville with a smile. "Did you ever hear about the bet?"

The bet? What bet?!" Hermione asked, slightly scandalized. Ron, on the other side, was feeling more and more amused by the minute.

"It was mostly Seamus and Dean, but there were other Gryffindors involved." He turned to Ron, and added, "The five of us used to share a dormitory, you see. And they both had an ongoing bet about when you two would get together."

"Are you serious?" Hermione asked, slightly put off. "We were never that obvious!"

Neville laughed. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to upset you. I thought you knew."

"But _were _we obvious?" Ron wanted to know. He was thoroughly enjoying seeing her like this, offended that they had been the target of curious teenagers. It made him think that she really cherished their story, making him wish he knew every detail of how he came to be so lucky to have her fall in love with him.

"I would say that if you spent enough time with you two and didn't guess how much you fancied each other, then you were not observant at all. You spent all your time together, whether Harry was there or not. But most of all it was the bickering and the jealousy. You should have seen Seamus imitate you two!"

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," Hermione complained.

"If you ask me," Ron said, "I'm just glad not to be the only one hearing this story for the first time, this once at least."

She smiled at him, resting her hand on his knee. "I'm sorry I reacted this way. I still get upset when people tell us we should have gotten together sooner. Our story may not be perfect, but it's ours and I wouldn't change any of it."

Seeing Hermione so proud of how relationship had evolved erased all sense of amusement in the story. He suddenly felt melancholic for the lives they used to have, and that he didn't know anymore. He fervently wished he could turn back the time, and somehow prevent whatever had erased his memories.

"Not even the past year? Wouldn't you want to change it?" Ron asked, unable to stop himself. "I would."

"I'm sorry," Neville said, serious now as well. "I didn't mean to cause this."

"It's alright, Neville, really. I know you meant well."

"Why don't we go to the Quidditch pitch," Ron suggested, wanting to do something that would make him feel better. "Let's take a walk and talk some more. I'm sure Neville doesn't mind."

"Actually, it works well for me, too. I have to go now. See you guys later!"

"See you," both Hermione and Ron replied, as they all got up and went their own ways.

"Poor Neville," Ron commented, still feeling nostalgic. "I think he didn't expect the conversation to go that way."

"Yes, I know. It's alright, I'll talk to him later."

They came out of the castle and started to walk towards the field.

"Were we that bad, though?"

Not _that_ bad, I don't think. We were teenagers and we had a _lot _of maturing to do. We made mistakes. We spent a lot of time trying to make each other jealous and doubting ourselves, so that we never really talked about how we felt."

"But we got together, eventually." Ron looked at her, noticing the way the breeze was messing her hair. He would have loved to reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear. He almost did, but he still felt shy about initiating any kind of contact after his failed attempt to kiss her.

"We did. It was the night of the final battle, here in Hogwarts."

"Here?" Ron asked, turning to look at the castle behind them with new eyes.

"Yes. You wanted to warn the House-elves and tell them to escape," she answered and then laughed. "Looking back, it doesn't sound all that romantic. But when you mentioned the elves, I just had to kiss you. It showed me that what had once been important only to me was now important to you, too. You listened to me, and that, added to not knowing whether we were going to survive or not..." She sighed. "Well, I just... _had_ to kiss you, if only once."

"I must have been pretty clueless, then. If all I had to do was listen to you, then how come I didn't get you to kiss me sooner?" Ron shook his head. "Please tell me I got better."

"We both got better," Hermione replied, "I wasn't perfect, either. We've been through so much, and we have been together for five years now. There's been many fights, and conversations, and a lot of learning from both of us. We still fight, and we still bicker, but it's a lot easier. The learning curve has been steep, but I think we're both better people for it."

They reached the Quidditch pitch, and Ron looked at it in amazement.

"I wish I remembered, Hermione. I want to remember everything; how we got together and everything that happened before and after that. I want to know all those things, and also all the small, simple details, like how much I fancy this game. George was telling me all about it the other day."

"Do you want to fly?"

"Do you think I can?"

"We won't know until we try," she countered, a glint in her eye. "Let's see if we can find a broom." They checked the locker rooms for stray brooms. They were about to lose hope, when a group of students walked in.

It was pretty easy to convince them to lend Ron a broom. The student who lent them the broom were slightly star struck, having heard all about Harry Potter's friends. Ron and Hermione found the whole situation hilarious, and had fun despite all the attention.

Ron enjoyed himself thoroughly. The feel of the wind on his face was rejuvenating, and the acrobatics he was soon able to do were exhilarating. He even got Hermione to fly with him, giving him the opportunity to enjoy the feel of her close to him.

It was the closest they had been since he had been back. He could feel the shape of her as he held her in place, and even though she had tied her hair in a knot, lose strands kept tickling his nose. He inhaled deeply to feel her smell again, and this time, it was like a punch to the stomach. It was the same smell he had felt the very first morning he was back, and the same smell that had reminded him of home.

He was still thinking of this revelation as they walked back to the castle to meet Neville and head back to McGonagall's office. When he had woken up that first day back, it had been _her _scent that had welcomed him. It wasn't only the certainty that he _knew_ and _loved _that smell, but the realisation that if he had felt it at all was because it was supposed to be Hermione's bed as well. Only that she hadn't been sharing it with him the past few nights.

"Hermione?" He asked. "I can't believe I only noticed this now, but... I've been sleeping in our room."

"Uhm... yes?" Hermione answered, not knowing what Ron meant.

"Where have _you_ been sleeping, then?"

"Oh," she said, getting a little shy. " Uhm, well... on the sofa."

"The sofa?!"

"Yes," she replied, this time her voice steeling. She was getting ready to defend her choices.

"Why on Merlin's beard would you sleep on the sofa?"

"Hi, guys! Are you ready to go?" Neville asked, a dubious look on his face. He had notice they were arguing.

"Yes, Neville, thank you," Hermione said, ignoring Ron.

"But... No, that's unfair. If anything, I should be the one sleeping on the sofa." "You need your rest more than I do."

"This time, the Portkey will take you directly to your place," Neville added, slightly uncomfortable to be witnessing what was obviously a domestic discussion.

"That's balmy. I'll sleep on the sofa tonight."

"We'll talk more when we get home," Hermione tried to stop the conversation.

"Thanks for everything, Neville."

"No problem. Professor McGonagall had a sudden responsibility to attend to. She's sorry she can't say goodbye, and wishes the very best for your recovery, Ron."

"Hermione, don't think I'll let the issue rest. I feel like a git that I hadn't noticed until now."

"Tell Headmistress McGonagall we're very thankful, Neville, please."

"I will," he replied as they reached the office. "She said she'll let you know if the Professor Against the Dark Arts finds anything that might be of help for your research."

"Research? What research? Hermione, we really need to talk,"

"We will, Ron, now will you calm down?"

"It's glowing!" Neville announced.

Frustrated, Ron stared at Hermione as if that would get his point across. He held the Portkey alongside Hermione, ready to jump into an argument as soon as they arrive home.

But everything he had wanted to say died in his throat once they got home and found it had been wrecked.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to Pili for her thoughtful, accurate beta work, as always. Thanks also to musingmarauder for pointing out a mistake I made in ch. 8 - Will correct it a.s.a.p.!**


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